Forbidden Rhythm

**Chapter 1: The Heat of the Dance**

The club pulsed with a primal beat, a sultry bassline that thrummed through Liz’s veins as she swayed on the dance floor. Neon lights flickered over her, casting shadows across her sharp cheekbones and the daring plunge of her black dress. She knew Robert was watching—hell, she’d felt his gaze searing into her for months. Tonight, though, was different. Martine and Domingo were nowhere in sight, and the air between them crackled with unspoken hunger.

Robert leaned against the bar, a whiskey in hand, his dark eyes locked on her. He was all sharp edges and quiet danger, the kind of man who could unravel you with a smirk. Liz caught his stare and tossed him a wicked grin, rolling her hips to the rhythm, daring him to come closer. He didn’t hesitate. Setting his glass down, he prowled across the floor, his presence a magnet she couldn’t resist.

'Thought you’d never show up,' Liz purred as he slid behind her, his hands hovering just above her hips, not quite touching. Her voice was a challenge, dripping with sass. 'What’s the matter, Robert? Afraid you can’t keep up?'

He chuckled, low and rough, his breath hot against her ear. 'Oh, darling, I’ve been keeping up with you in my head for months. Question is, can you handle me?'

Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the music. 'Handle you? Sweetheart, I’ll have you begging for mercy before the night’s out.'

His hands finally settled on her waist, firm and possessive, pulling her back against his chest. Their bodies moved as one, grinding to the beat, the friction igniting a fire that had been smoldering far too long. Liz tilted her head back, her dark hair brushing his jaw, and smirked. 'Careful, big boy. You’re playing with fire.'

'And you’re the damn inferno,' he growled, his fingers digging into her hips. 'I’ve been dying to burn.'

The heat between them was unbearable now, their banter a dance of its own, each word stoking the flames. Liz could feel him hardening against her, the evidence of his desire pressing into her lower back. She wasn’t shy about her own need either—her body was alive, aching, and she wasn’t about to play coy. Spinning in his grip, she faced him, her nails grazing his chest through his shirt. 'You gonna keep talking, or are you gonna do something about this?'

Robert’s eyes darkened, a predator’s glint. 'Thought you’d never ask.'

He grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd with purpose, her heart pounding in time with the music. They slipped into a dimly lit hallway near the back of the club, the noise fading into a distant hum. Before she could throw another quip, he had her pressed against the wall, his body caging hers. His hands roamed, bold and hungry, as hers slid under his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abs.

'Fuck, Liz,' he rasped, his lips brushing her neck. 'You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted this.'

'Then stop wasting time,' she shot back, her voice dripping with command. She yanked him closer by his belt, her fingers teasing the edge of his waistband. 'Show me.'

His growl was feral as he spun her around, her palms bracing against the cool wall. He pushed her velvet dress up, exposing the curve of her ass, his hands gripping her with raw need. Their breaths were ragged, the air thick with lust, and Liz arched back against him, daring him to take what they both craved. 'Don’t hold back,' she demanded, her tone fierce. 'I’m not fragile.'

And as his hands tightened, his body pressing hard against hers, she knew this was only the beginning of an explosive night.